


Claimed

by vlbuehle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, BSDM, Blow Jobs, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-29
Updated: 2011-08-29
Packaged: 2017-10-23 09:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlbuehle/pseuds/vlbuehle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>  Off a prompt requesting Castiel/needs-to-be-controlled Sam/Gabriel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Claimed

**Author's Note:**

> betaed by kijikun and la_mariane

_  
_

He shouldn’t be doing this and he knew it.  Dean had vanished for the night with Anna, yeah, but that didn’t mean he was gone until dawn.  And if he came back to find Sam gone, awkwardness would be the least of it.  Dean would immediately assume Sam had gone for a fix, and while he’d technically be right, Sam didn’t want to explain exactly what he’d left to do that he couldn’t do anywhere near Dean’s presence.  Not to his big brother, because he wasn’t sure the look on Dean’s face would be worse than the disappointment of Sam drinking demon blood or starting the Apocalypse, but he was pretty damn sure he didn’t want to risk it.  Not again.  So he should play it safe by staying in, should turn on the TV or work on finding a new case or the backlog of research on anything and everything the Apocalypse might toss their way next.  If he absolutely _had_ to do something, he should turn on porn.  He might even get a skin flick with someone tied up.

But his very skin itched with the craving.  Substitution might not be the healthiest means of dealing with an addiction, but demon blood wasn’t the healthiest thing to be addicted to either, and his method of coping _worked_ , dammit.  Especially since the craving he’d used was far older and deeper than the one Ruby had forced on him.  And right now, he needed a fix, badly.

Besides, it wasn’t like anyone would know, he consoled himself.  He’d keep it from getting too far out of hand, he knew how.  He’d leave Dean a note saying he’d gone off to pick up a chick at the bar down the road; Dean would buy that.  He’d make it clear marks were restricted only to areas he could easily cover.

He hadn’t hit the scene seriously since he’d lost Jess; that was one conversation he was _never_ having with Dean, thank you anyway.  Girls Dean got, boys he wouldn’t bat an eye at, but Sam letting someone hurt him was a guaranteed way to turn Dean ballistic even now.  So he’d dabbled here and there, nothing more extreme than handcuffs or spankings, mild shit that left marks Dean simply raised a brow at and let slide.

Mild shit was not going to cut it; he’d let this build too long.  He needed the real deal tonight, needed someone to tear him down hard.  That meant a club, an actual club with people who at least had a general idea about the lifestyle.

And he knew just where to go.  He kept an eye out for the places to hit in every decent-sized city; there was a club that was perfectly suited for his needs and it was less than twenty minutes away.

It was an easy walk and he took his time, letting himself settle down a little with the exercise.  There, an utterly non-descript club, typical of a nightclub in any city, except a disproportionate amount of the clientele wore leather, lycra, and latex.  There were a few women clad in what looked suspiciously like colored Saran, a sure sign he’d found the right place.

He didn’t have any real gear; his dress code clothes had burned at Stanford with Jess, and they weren’t exactly something he could easily replace in the thrift stores that supplied most of his wardrobe.  But he’d picked the club with that in mind too—there were men and a few women in casual clothes entering.  The club, like all BSDM clubs, preferred dress code, but would permit good casual clothes for a higher fee.  He paid the party pooper fine without hesitation, flashing a smile at the bouncer to sweeten the deal, and slipped through the door without a problem.  Perfect.  Lots of people milling around, with rooms along the walls.  He took in the high-class equipment, noting the slings in several of the dungeons, several spanking benches, and one really nice St. Andrews’ cross already in use, and smiled a little.

Oh, yeah, exactly what he’d needed, and a part of himself he kept carefully buried relaxed as he walked into the club full of men and women.  His gaze dropped immediately, his body language shifting from predator to prey as he let himself go, just a little.  A hint of defiance flickered in his eyes as he looked up from beneath his lashes, taking the scene in.

It’d been awhile since he’d let his submissive side out to play, but he’d learned well in Stanford under Jess’ gentle but firm control and this was as familiar to him as the smoke-filled bars were.  He worked his way through the crowd to the bar, ordered himself a beer—hard alcohol was a no-no, especially here—and leaned back against the bar, displaying himself to the interested gazes raking over him as he drank from the bottle.  He looked damn good and he knew it: dark blue jeans of the same brand that Jess had favored, once upon a time; a plain black t-shirt over it, boots on his feet.    He studied the Doms in the door speculatively.  He shied away from the Dommes; that memory was too raw, too precious to sully with a one-night stand.  But the males, they were another story altogether.

He knew what he wanted: someone who’d rip him apart.  Not a real Domme like Jess, who’d known exactly what she was doing, not someone who gave a damn.  He wanted pain, wanted someone who’d break him down without bothering to put him back together again afterwards.  And in any club like this, he had plenty to choose from.

He declined several approaches from men and women both before he found what he was looking for, a burly guy nearly as big as he was with fancy leather duds and a big shiny belt buckle who fairly screamed spoiled rich brat.  More importantly for Sam’s purposes, there was cruelty in him, a disinterest in the subs as anything other than meat, a cold look in his eyes Sam recognized from years of facing down monsters hiding behind human faces.  Most of the subs had taken one long look and dismissed him entirely, but a few of them were drifting towards him.

He was perfect.

Sam caught his eye, let the challenge fill his gaze as he gave him a slow look up and down before he sucked down the rest of his beer and turned back to the bar, knowing the jeans displayed his ass beautifully. 

He didn’t wait long before the man sidled up beside him, eyeing him hungrily.  Sam gave him a sideways look, shifted slightly so he was half-facing the guy, and let the invitation fill his eyes as he gave him a quick glance up and down.  Burly with some muscle to him, but also going to fat.  Definitely mean, Sam knew that look, but nothing he couldn’t handle if it came to that.

“I know what you need.”  The bloodlust in his eyes said he actually might. 

Sam arched a brow anyway.  “Yeah?”

“I’ll make you bleed, make you scream, make you beg for more,” the man drawled, leaning in closer.  He was a poser, wasn’t half as tough as he thought he was, but he’d do nicely.

“Ground rules,” he said, and the man scowled briefly.  “Non-negotiable.  You don’t mark me where it can’t be covered up—no arms, no hands, no face, no neck, no feet.  Other than that—”  This was stupid, stupid, _stupid_.  You never went with a one-night stand without a safe word.  “—anything goes,” he finished defiantly, and the Dom blinked for a second, caught entirely off guard.  But he liked the idea, liked it a lot—and as Sam had figured, he didn’t argue.  His hand closed over Sam’s shoulder, fingers digging into the sensitive nerve running under the collarbone and he smirked at the slight sound of pain Sam made—and the way he didn’t fight, just stood there and took it.

“Don’t like conditions, but in this case, I’ll make an exception.”

“Like _hell_.”

Sam jumped, horror sheeting through him as a deceptively ordinary frame inserted itself between him and the other human, plucking the man’s hand neatly off his shoulder and ignoring the guy's increasingly bewildered attempts at resistance.

“He’s ours,” Gabriel said tersely.  There was something very dangerous and very inhuman flashing in his eyes as he pinned Sam under one brief look before he turned back to the mortal, eyes darkening in open dislike.

Wait, theirs?  Cas had gone off with Gabriel, that was half the reason Sam had felt safe enough—and desperate enough—to try this.  Hot hands slide over his shoulders, one resting straight over the spots that’d soon be bruises.

“This Den of Iniquity is different than the type Dean prefers,” Castiel remarked calmly from behind him.  Sam twitched, briefly thrown by the prosaic comment and the matter-of-fact tone it was delivered in.

“Uh—well—” he fumbled, and came up with nothing that wouldn’t involve long, rambling explanations of human sexuality that he really didn’t want to get into.

“I’ll explain later,” Gabriel informed his younger brother.  “You.  Leave.  _Now_.”

The mortal had enough sense to stumble backwards, if not enough to keep his mouth shut.  “He was askin’ for it!”

“Alone,” Gabriel added tightly, taking one step forward.  Sam had no idea what he’d done—he didn’t think he wanted to know—but the mortal went deathly white, mouth opening and closing before he simply bolted.

Gabriel watched him bolt before he turned back to his brother and the mortal held in place under Castiel’s unyielding touch.  And to Sam’s alarm, the cold look had warmed into intrigued speculation.

“I missed this side of you, Sammy,” the archangel purred, pressing himself firmly against Sam’s front to leave him pinned between two immoveable angels.  “C’mon.”

Sam was following obediently in his wake before he even consciously realized it, feet falling neatly into step precisely behind Gabriel.  He hadn’t reacted like that even to Jess.  Even worse, he knew exactly where Castiel was behind him, had instinctively split his attention neatly between the two.  This was so not good.

By the time they hit the cool air of the alley, he’d focused on the bigger issues at stake than his instinctive deference to two angels. 

“Don’t tell Dean,” he begged miserably.  “Please don’t tell Dean.”

“Anna does not share the details of her time with Dean,” Cas sounded puzzled.  “Why would we?”

Gabriel turned back with a sigh.  “He doesn’t get it yet, Cas.”  He locked Sam’s gaze with his own atypically serious one.  “But he will.”  He tapped Sam’s forehead and they were gone. 

Sam flailed for a moment, then thumped into one of the nicest mattresses he’d ever felt.  He jackknifed up into a sitting position, eyes darting from one stern-faced angel to the other as both males faced him from the edge of the bed.  Part of him wanted to stay right where he was—he was pretty sure he’d been put here for a reason—but he eased himself off when neither said anything.  His gaze darted over the large room, taking in the lush décor and lingering on the huge bed behind him, big enough to accommodate all three of them with ease.

“What—” he began, only to fall obediently silent at a short sweep of Gabriel’s hand.  He wasn’t entirely sure what was going on here.  He knew what he wanted to be going on, and he also knew what the odds of that happening really were.  However, he knew better than to second-guess Gabriel; the archangel’s thought process was convoluted at best, and migraine-inducing at worst. 

“We’re all you need,” Gabriel told him, eyes pure amber in the muted lighting.  “We can be everything you want, Sammy, everything you’ve ever craved.  There is _nothing_ you could possibly want that we have not seen, or that we would condemn you for.  We will take care of you, fill every desire you have and the ones you don’t even know about yet.”  He paused, and Sam swallowed against the dryness of his mouth, cock already hardening at the seductive promise in his voice. 

“But if you accept that offer, you accept us.  You will have no others,” Castiel added, low and fierce and every bit as inhumanly beautiful as his brother.

“You will be ours to do with as we please—forever.”

Gabriel was shorter than he was, but it didn’t matter right now because the being standing before him was most definitely not human.  Cas had once commented that his true size rivaled the Empire State building; Sam was pretty damn sure Gabriel dwarfed that by a large amount. 

This was not the Trickster, cocky and mocking.  This was Gabriel, Archangel of the Lord in his glory, barely cloaked by the mortal flesh he wore.  This was power that could smite Sam into dust without any discernable effort.

He was so hard it hurt.  _This_ was what he’d wanted, even as he’d sought out pale mortal imitations.  He wanted Gabriel and he wanted Castiel, he’d simply resigned himself to having neither. 

“We do this, there’s no going back.  You know that, Sammy.”  Gabriel’s voice was quiet and uncharacteristically serious, and Sam took the warning for what it was.  He shouldn’t do this and he knew it.  Team Free Will was already so precariously balanced, he could fuck up so much by fucking their resident angels.

He hesitated, eyes flickering to Castiel.  The dark angel had shed his trench coat and tie, and he looked oddly unclothed in the simple shirt and dress trousers he wore.  Cas had pulled Dean from Hell and won himself a portion of Sam’s trust and his eternal gratitude both.  But over the months that followed, Sam had watched the angel change from the steadfast soldier of the Lord following his superiors’ commands to the angel who’d defied the entire Host to do what was right.  Castiel had become a respected and cherished friend, and those feelings had only deepened as Sam got to know the angel.

And Gabriel…he had every reason to hate the Trickster who’d tormented him, but he’d had to respect the strength and courage it took to leave home and reinvent yourself.  That respect had deepened—and the lingering grudge faded drastically—when Gabriel had reappeared to save their asses during the entire pagan god debacle, nearly getting himself skewered by Lucifer in the process.  After the archangel had joined them, Sam found himself honestly liking the sardonic humor and sharp mind of the man. 

They were beautiful, incredible, and he’d been falling for weeks already.  He _needed_ what they were offering, needed the freedom that came in knowing he had absolutely no control over them—and he wasn’t stupid enough to pass up a night in their bed.

“I’m yours, sir,” he said softly, dropping his eyes and his masks.  Gabriel inhaled slowly.

“Good boy,” he said softly, and Sam shivered under the praise. 

Strong hands steered him over to the bed.  “Up,” Cas ordered, voice more gravelly than usual, and Sam obeyed instantly.  There were none of the ropes or cuffs he’d half-expected—but then, they didn’t really need them.  If they wanted him doing something, he’d do it on their command alone and they all knew it.  No safeword either, but they were mind-reading angels, and he trusted them to stop if he needed them to.

“Hands and knees,” Gabriel commanded huskily and he locked his arms and dropped his head, trembling as his clothing vanished without even the usual snap.  Nothing happened, and he shook harder, stomach twisting as his breathing sped up.  He’d asked for this, he’d deliberately put himself at their mercy. 

He fought with himself for a long minute—and then he deliberately let go.  He had chosen this.  He trusted them.  He would trust them now.

“Very good, Sammy,” Gabriel told him, and a hand glided down his spine.  Another closed about his neck, squeezing for a moment.  He quivered, fear turning to pleasure in an instant, and Cas made a soft, pleased noise.  He released Sam’s neck and caressed his head, running his hands through shaggy hair.  Gabriel’s hand stroked over the crease of his ass, then dipped in.  One long finger glided straight into him without any preamble and he gasped, jolting in shock at the smooth breach of his body.  Gabriel had slicked him up, probably when his clothes had vanished, so he didn’t tear, but it was unexpected and he was small and tight enough that even one finger felt huge.  He arched back into the intrusion, breath hitching at the burn as his body clamped down.

It felt good.  It felt really, _really_ good.

Castiel reclaimed his attention by leaning in to nip sharply at his shoulder, the bright flare of the bite making Sam groan and shove back harder onto Gabriel’s hand.  “You won’t be able to walk after this,” the normally taciturn angel promised huskily, and Sam began to pant, his cock smearing precome over his taut belly.  He was caught, pinned between them, theirs to do with as they pleased.   

 Gabriel withdrew his finger and shoved it back in, once, then twice.  On the third time, a second finger joined the first and Sam yelped at the increased burn.  A hand threaded through his hair and yanked, forcing his head back to meet heated cobalt eyes.  Cas knelt before him, shirt gone, pants clinging to lean hips.  Somewhere along the way he’d unbuttoned them, but the zipper held them shut despite the erection tenting them.

“Open my pants with your mouth and suck me,” his dom ordered.  Sam leaned forward obediently, sensitive tongue working along the metal until he found the small prong of the zipper.  He worked it up, mouthing along the linen and the straining cock beneath, then delicately caught it between his teeth and tugged down.  He pulled back as Cas’ cock sprang free, took a breath, and tentatively licked at the tip.

Cas gripped the base of his shaft with one hand and used the hand still wrapped around Sam’s hair to control the blowjob.  Sam’s eyes shut at the salty taste of Cas’ flesh, savoring the weight and shape filling his mouth.  He sucked, then gagged a little when Cas pushed his head down and thrust up, choking him slightly.

Gabriel had apparently had enough of being ignored.  The fingers were gone and Sam groaned around the prick in his mouth at the emptiness.  Then hard pressure pushed in firmly, smoothly, and he whimpered.  He’d been stretched a little, but not enough for the huge cock splitting him open and he was briefly overwhelmed by the pain and the fullness.  Cas’ hand slid down his belly to stroke his cock, blurring just enough of the pain with pleasure, giving him the second he needed to get through that first shock of penetration.

For a moment both angels held still, letting him adjust.  He was spitted between them, one cock filling his mouth as the other took his ass, and it was incredible.

It wasn’t enough, though, and he rocked tentatively back onto Gabriel, then forward to suck Cas.  That was all they’d been waiting for.  Cas slid a hand under his chest, supporting him even as the other hand cradled the top of his head, forcing his cock deeper into Sam’s mouth until the tip nudged down Sam’s throat to briefly cut off his air, controlling the blowjob entirely at this point.  Gabriel pulled out and shoved back in, thrusting forcefully even as he angled to catch Sam’s prostate, causing the hunter to moan around the cock stuffed down his throat.

Almost there, _almost_ , and he strained, caught between the cock shoving into his throat, choking off his breath for long glorious moments and the one reaming his ass in a hard pounding.  He was helpless and he reveled in the knowledge that he was completely, utterly at the mercy of the two angels pinning him between them.  He needed this so much, but it wasn’t quite enough.  His jaw ached as Castiel buried himself deep, and his ass burned as Gabriel split him open over and over again, but it wasn’t quite enough.  He _needed_ pain, real pain.  This was close, added that sweet, sharp edge to the pleasure consuming him—but it wasn’t enough, not tonight.

“Told you, Sammy,” Gabriel snarled behind him, burying himself to the root and pausing for a moment.  “We’re all you’ll ever need.  We’ll take care of you.”  He rotated his hips, hitting spots in Sam that made him scream around the cock buried down his throat, but it still wasn’t quite _enough_. 

Hands stroked over his hips as Gabriel caressed him, then firmed up his grip and pulled out, slid back in to the core, hitting Sam’s prostate dead on over and over again.  Castiel’s one hand cradled the base of his skull, keeping him in place for the angel’s pleasure, the other hand still pressed firmly against his chest to keep him in place for them both. 

“Close your eyes, Sam,” Cas growled, and he slammed his eyes shut instantly at his Dom’s command.

The hands on his chest and hips were suddenly hot, burning into flesh and through it to the soul beneath.  It was precisely what he needed, the sweet, hot flare of pain that shoved him ruthlessly over the edge.  He shrieked, the sound cut off as the thick cock slid down the back of his mouth, the one cool hand keeping his head at the perfect angle.  He choked around it, tears stinging closed lids as his throat worked frantically around the blockage.

Light flared around him as the cock in his mouth throbbed.  Sam was coming harder than he’d ever come before, pain and pleasure scorching him as his ass convulsed around the erection buried so deep it nearly hurt, and he vaguely felt Gabriel giving the short, sharp thrusts signaling the archangel’s orgasm.

He wasn’t entirely sure what happened next.  He was a quivering mess on the wrecked bed when he drifted back to awareness, the salty taste of semen deep in the back of his aching throat as he sucked in quick, frantic breaths.  He was raw, open, utterly exposed and for a single, sickening moment he was terrified because they’d seen every bit of him, body and soul.  They’d laid him open, taken and possessed, and he was _theirs_ now, knew it to his core.  They could destroy him so easily.

“Hush.” 

An angel was curled against him, he belatedly realized, gentle fingers stroking through his hair.  Tears slid down his cheeks, but he kept his eyes firmly shut; he wasn’t sure he could cope with facing anyone right now.  Long fingers stroked down his back as his overloaded senses finally registered the second angel behind him, pinning him securely between them.  Technically he was currently taller than both of them and it should have felt ridiculous, but instead he felt…safe.

“Shh,” Gabriel crooned behind him, and lips pressed softly against his shoulder.  “You’re fine, kiddo.  You’re so good, so gorgeous.”

“Ours,” Castiel murmured, a thread of wonder in his smug tone. 

“Ours,” Gabriel agreed, sharp possessiveness in his voice as his hand fell to one of Sam’s hips.  He became vaguely aware of the pain in his hips, a bright throbbing spot on his chest—and the odd comfort and safety too.  He hadn’t felt like this since…since Jess had presented him with the collar he’d proudly worn during their sessions, and at the clubs she’d shown him off in.  Not in public and not always at home either; neither of them had been ready for that, but when it mattered he’d worn her mark proudly.  Right now he felt that safe, that secure, knowing that he _belonged_ and nothing would ever change that.

 “This is rather more permanent, but the concept is the same,” Castiel informed him, still sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.  “You belong to us for eternity.”

He should be alarmed by that, Sam registered from the haze of endorphins and the sheer fucking _relief_ of knowing that right now, he had absolutely no control over anything happening to him or around him.  But he’d just had the best sex of his life, he was probably the safest he’d ever been in his existence since nothing was stupid enough to challenge two angels, and he really wanted to sleep.  He was pretty sure they’d Marked him and he was certain he’d freak out when he wasn’t so relaxed and comfortable and happy, but that would wait for morning.  He was equally sure that Dean would have a meltdown that made Chernobyl look like kid’s play, and that could definitely wait. 

“Go to sleep, Samuel.”  Cas’ voice was soft, warm, and packed with absolute authority.  It was the last thing his overloaded brain needed to simply let go.  The last thing he heard as he drifted into dreams was Gabriel.

“Collar?” Gabriel mused.  “We can do a collar.”

  


 


End file.
